


Show Me Some Skin, I Might Bite It

by hobotang



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, Young Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, honestly so much fluff, it's tooth-rotting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 13:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9658496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobotang/pseuds/hobotang
Summary: "New kid Derek is a werewolf. Stiles doesn't realise he can hear all the fucked-up shit he tells Scott. Scott totally knows."This is basically just high-school Stiles and Derek being cute and happy, and Scott being cupid. It's technically young!Derek, I guess, they're all in the same year. I never write fic that doesn't have smut, so the fact that this is over 2.5k and nobody even mentions blowjobs is a miracle.





	

“Dude, how can you _not_ say he’s attractive?”

Stiles is his usual bundle of uncoordinated limbs as he races after Scott into the locker room, probably speaking a little too loudly but he doesn’t really care, because dude. The new kid – Derek, as Scott keeps reminding him, because “the new kid” has a _name_ , Stiles – is _hot_. He’s buff as hell, so much so that even though he and Stiles are the same height he looks gargantuan, purely because of the bulk. He’s all dark hair and dark eyebrows, too, with that closed-off expression that Stiles kind of hates himself for loving. He doesn’t talk much, and smiles even less, but there’s just _something_ about his aggravating broodiness that makes him irresistible to Stiles.

To Scott, it’s just aggravating. Because he’s certain that he and Stiles used to talk about normal things – they’ve been friends _forever_ , they can’t have talked about Derek all that time, right? – but by this point, Scott has heard Stiles talk about the new guy so much that he almost hates Derek just on principle. It’s getting…well, aggravating.

“Because I don’t like guys?”

Stiles rolls his eyes, and his whole body follows.

“Yeah, but you don’t need to like guys to _appreciate_ guys’ attractiveness, right? Like, objectively speaking, he’s _supernaturally_ hot.”

Scott hears a soft cough on the other side of the room, and smirk. He knows Derek is a werewolf, he smelled it on Derek’s first day when they passed each other in the corridor. He’d been meaning to tell Stiles straight away, but then his best friend had come bounding towards him and before Scott had a chance to open his mouth, Stiles had been practically soliloquising about Derek’s attractiveness. And even then, Scott had really meant to tell him. But…well, he’d seen the way Derek’s ears had flamed red at Stiles’ words, and he knew it would embarrass Stiles to spontaneous combustion, so he just…hadn’t said anything.

And now it’s been two weeks of Stiles singing Derek’s praises literally every day, and two weeks of Derek’s beet-red face every time he sees Stiles, and honestly? This is the most entertainment Scott’s ever had at school, so fuck it. He deserves a laugh or two.

“Stiles, I get that he’s hot, but not all of us feel the need to constantly _say_ that he’s hot.”

“Yeah, but someone _that_ hot deserves to be talked about all the time. Like, _all_ the time.”

Scott just laughs, shooting a look over to where Derek is getting changed into his swimming gear. He zeroes in on his heartbeat, finds it rapid and a little erratic. It’s cute, really, how Derek tries to cultivate the bad boy image, but really he’s just as nervous as any teenage kid around their crush. And there’s no doubt he’s totally crushing on Stiles – Scott gets the feeling that even if he couldn’t hear the tell-tale heartbeat, it’d be obvious if anyone was looking for it. The flushed cheeks, the sudden clumsiness whenever Stiles enters the room, and especially the way he’s currently sneaking looks at Stiles’ torso as he gets changed for lacrosse practice.

Derek looks away finally and catches Scott’s eye accidentally, blushing furiously and snatching his bags up quickly, heading for the pool.

“You know,” Scott starts slowly, an idea forming as he speaks, “instead of talking _about_ him all the time, you could just try talking _to_ him.”

Stiles snorts, getting stuck in his jersey as he pulls it down over his head.

“Yeah, right. Scott, people like me don’t _just talk_ to people like Derek. There’s rules against that sort of thing, y’know? Like, every unattractive person has an automatic restraining order against the unreasonably attractive, issued at birth and revoked _never_.”

“Whatever, dude, I’m just saying. Derek’s my lab partner, and he’s cool. He’s _nice_.”

Stiles snorts again.

“And,” Scott prods, refusing to be discouraged, “seeing as he’s new here and still seems to sit on his own every class, I’m betting he wouldn’t mind making a friend?”

“I thought _you_ were his friend,” Stiles points out teasingly, “seeing as you think he’s so _nice_ and all.”

Scott rolls his eyes.

“I mean another friend. Believe it or not, most normal people do actually have more than one friend.”

“Psh, _why_?”

“God, dude, just talk to him, will you? For me? So I don’t end up going crazy from your Derek-related ramblings?”

Stiles sputters indignantly as the boys gather their stuff, but huffs a resigned sigh eventually.

“Fine. But if it turns out he’s a serial killer and I get murdered in my bed, I’m blaming you!”

“Please, we both know you’d be thanking me for getting _anyone_ anywhere near your bed!”

 

* * *

 

It gets to lunch the next day, and Scott is seriously considering getting the claws out on Stiles. He still hasn’t made an effort to talk to Derek, but he also hasn’t shut up once about him, and it’s seemingly worse than usual. So bad, in fact, that Scott does something he knows is cruel even as he’s doing it, and waves Derek over to their table.

“Hey Derek, you wanna sit with us?”

He gets matching gapes from both Stiles and Derek himself at this, and he sees Derek getting ready to say no, so he grabs his arm and practically drags the guy into the seat next to him, facing Stiles. Derek shifts awkwardly, steadfastly avoiding eye contact with the boy across from him, who is currently glaring at Scott with such ferocity that it’s amazing Scott’s hair hasn’t caught fire already.

“So Derek,” Scott powers on regardless of the awkwardness, “how have your first couple weeks been?”

Derek clears his throat, still staring at the table, and mumbles, “It’s been okay.”

“Just okay?” Scott prods – he knows he’s being annoying, but he’s doing it in the name of _love_ , so basically he deserves a medal.

“Yeah, just okay. I mean, it’s school; how good can it really get?”

Scott and Stiles both laugh at this, and the way Derek’s heart damn near short-circuits at Stiles’ laugh is so heart-warming Scott kind of wants to cry. Or scream at the two of them, “Just kiss already!”

Either or, really.

“I hear you’re already on the swim team, that’s really impressive. Usually new kids take a while to get accepted, especially sophomores. What’s your stroke?”

“Uh, mostly freestyle and butterfly, but I’m a good enough backstroker.”

Scott nods, ignoring Stiles’ snicker at Derek’s terminology. They go from there, talking about sport for a bit before moving on to Derek’s old school, and why his family had moved from New York that summer. Turns out their parents had met in Beacon Hills years ago, then moved away for the job opportunities when Derek was about 9 or 10. But now that they had some money saved up, and there was a better economy in Beacon Hills, the family had chosen to move back to the place they called home. It was a sweet story, really, especially the way Derek had been so excited to move back.

Stiles feels himself falling with every word that comes out of Derek’s mouth, loving the fact that not only is he actually _talking_ , but he’s talking about things he likes and practically glowing with happiness, and it’s just…it’s just lovely.

It takes Stiles by surprise to realise that he hasn’t had a sexual thought about Derek in nearly ten minutes, he’s been so caught up in the conversation. But that all goes south when Stiles tries to concentrate again and ends up staring at Derek’s mouth, at his absurdly pink lips that Stiles bets are soft as silk. He’d taste like honey, like an earthy sweetness and maybe something musky, too. Stiles already knows from passing him in the hallways that he smells a bit like fabric softener and firewood, maybe he’d taste like that, too. And now that he thinks about how Derek smells, Stiles wouldn’t mind breathing him in properly, just burrowing his nose into the Derek’s neck and _inhaling_ the boy into his senses.

And he’s only just now aware that he’s staring, and he’s being stared _at_ , too, because he’s breathing really hard. Too hard. Derek looks concerned, and Scott looks so smug is amazing he doesn’t just melt into an ooze of self-satisfaction. Stiles is aware his heart rate is through the roof, and he probably stinks of arousal, so he tries to think of anything he can to get himself back under control. He thinks about car crashes, and drowning, and Scott and Allison having sex and yep, that one definitely does it.

Stiles gives himself a little shake, making an apologetic face at Derek.

“I swear I was listening, sorry, just got a bit distracted.”

Derek looks, if possible, more embarrassed than Stiles, and he can only muster a sharp nod before ducking his head, trying to stifle the blush creeping up from his chest. He’s never been happier to hear the piercing trill of the bell, and the three of them scramble a bit too hastily to gather their stuff and get to their lockers. Stiles is trying desperately to fumble his books out of his locker, and also quell his imminent boner, when he hears someone clear their throat behind him. He spins around – managing to somehow clip his head on the locker in the process, which doesn’t help anything – and nearly loses control of his knees because it’s _Derek_ standing there, clutching his books to his chest like a protective shield and looking so _sweet_ it makes Stiles’ teeth hurt.

“I, uh…” Derek starts, ears flushing red again. “You…when you got all weird at lunch…what were you thinking about?”

Stiles blanches, heart jackhammering again – surely this can’t be good for his blood pressure? He wracks his brain for a believable lie, something that might make even the slightest bit of sense, but Derek beats him to it.

“It’s just that, well, your heart went all crazy and your smell… _spiked_ ,” he stumbles over the word awkwardly, and Stiles nearly cries with humiliation, but then Derek carries on, “so I just…do you like me?”

Stiles is slack-jawed, so much so that he barely registers the hope in Derek’s voice, and his brain goes into overdrive.

“…you’re a werewolf?!”

He says it maybe a little too loudly, but thankfully the bustle of the crowd of students drowns him out to everyone but Derek. Derek’s forehead creases, his insane eyebrows meeting in confusion.

“You didn’t know?”

Stiles shakes his head, for once literally speechless.

“It’s just that Scott said you guys know all about werewolves, and seeing as he picked me out on my first day, I assumed he’d told you. I thought…well, I thought you either didn’t care about me hearing all the, uh…all the stuff you said about me” – Stiles groans, mortified – “or, y’know, you were hoping I’d hear.”

Derek takes in Stiles’ expression, and takes a miniscule step back, face dropping.

“Or you didn’t realise I could hear you at all, and I’m totally overstepping, and you don’t like me at all, in which case I’ll just go.”

He’s almost off and running before Stiles finally gathers his wits and shoots his hand out to Derek’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. He takes a second to appreciate the firmness of the bicep under his hand before dropping it again.

“I didn’t know you’re a werewolf. Like, at all. I suppose I should have, given your inhumanly good looks – _literally_ inhuman, apparently – but my good friend Scott” – the sarcasm _drips_ off his words – “declined to share that information with me. Probably because he hates me and wants me to die of embarrassment, which, okay, fair enough, but he could have been a bit more merciful about it.”

Stiles knows he’s rambling, but he’s still trying to rationalise the fact that not only did Derek notice the way his _smell_ changed at lunch, but he’s been hearing every fucked-up thing Stiles has said about him over the past couple of weeks. _Everything_. Good God, that’s mortifying.

“Look, dude, I’m so sorry, okay? I wasn’t trying to harass you or anything, I didn’t know you could hear me, which I know doesn’t make it okay, because just because someone doesn’t hear you saying stuff about them doesn’t mean it’s okay to _say_ ,” he drags in a breath, stops, re-centres. “I’m just sorry, okay?”

Derek’s face easing is intriguing to watch, the way his eyebrows unknit themselves and his mouth loosens, even forming something resembling a smile.

“I don’t want you to say sorry, Stiles. Not if you meant what you said.”

Stiles’ heart is in his throat.

“I…what?”

“If you meant what you’ve been saying the past couple weeks, then I don’t want you to say sorry. I want you to ask me out.”

Stiles’ jaw drops again – it feels like that’s happening a lot today – and he _knows_ Derek hears his heart rate spike again, because _what_? Did _Derek Hale_ just ask him out? Well, okay, Derek didn’t ask him out, he asked Stiles to ask him out, but still. Same thing, right? So Stiles decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and stammers out, “Derek, do you wanna go out with me?”

The reaction in Derek is beautiful; his brow softens and straightens out, and that semblance of a smile turns into a full-blown grin. Stiles has never really noticed Derek’s bunny teeth before, but they somehow make Derek _more_ endearing to Stiles, which seems impossible.

Stiles is focusing so much on Derek’s mouth (yet again) that he doesn’t notice it moving towards him until all of a sudden it’s actually _on_ him, Derek’s mouth is on Stiles’ mouth and oh my God, Derek is kissing him. Derek is kissing him, and Stiles isn’t kissing him back, and Derek nearly pulls back before Stiles reaches a hand up to his shoulder and holds him there. Derek’s lips are just as soft as they look, smooth and warm and he tastes like honey, just like Stiles thought.

The kiss goes on for a while, and gets far too heated for a school hallway. Stiles moves his hand to the back of Derek’s neck and Derek’s pressing him against the locker, books thrown to the side so that Derek can use both hands to brace himself around Stiles’ body. Soon he’s leaning against him properly, his hips pushing Stiles’ body back into the hard metal and it should be uncomfortable, except it’s _really_ not. Stiles breaks the kiss only to dive back in and bury his nose in Derek’s neck, breathing in hard and going light-headed at just how _good_ he smells, and –

And then there’s a cough from behind them and they both jump back, except that Stiles is already backed up against the locker so he just smacks his head with a loud crack against the metal. He rubs his head as Derek straightens up, and they look up to find Scott standing there, both mildly proud and profoundly disgusted.

“I see you two are getting along.”

Derek blushes hard, ducking to pick up his books off the ground, and Stiles just gives his best friend an exasperated glare. Scott shrugs, grinning petulantly, and says, “We’re late for class, we should get going.”

He heads off towards the stairs, hearing the other two falling into stride behind him, and only glances back when he hears two heartbeats surge noisily. He looks back as he reaches the stairs to see Derek and Stiles walking side by side, hands clasped loosely between their bodies. He’s tempted to say something, or at least wolf-whistle as they continue down the corridor, but Stiles’ shit-eating grin and the radiant smile Derek is desperately trying to get under control make him stop. He’ll let them have their moment.

All in all, he thinks to himself, a job well done.

**Author's Note:**

> This is very dialogue-heavy, which I don't do a lot. Please let me know if it's clunky, or would flow better with less conversation. Just let me know what you think in general, 'cause I do this shit for the attention, y'know?
> 
> I made a huge masterlist of fic prompts for myself ages ago and thus lost the original author of the prompt, oops.
> 
> Title is from "Wicked Way" by Ben Taylor.


End file.
